Apathy
by Rather Shy
Summary: Sometimes, Brian feels beyond apathetic. And then, all of a sudden, there's Curt. A meditation on their love. BrianxCurt, obviously.


**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own them, they own me.

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**Apathy**

**i.**

'_I smoke 'cause I'm hoping for an early death  
__And I need to cling to something.'_

Sometimes, Brian feels beyond apathetic.

Not unhappy, nothing like he imagines clinical depression to feel. Unless he's getting it wrong, and he might well be. It could be this – there are days when he wakes up and can't even bring himself to open his eyes, let alone get out of bed and live. It could be something entirely different. But he feels like nothing, like a wisp of cloud. Invisible. Which he knows is ridiculous, because if he believes what Jerry tells him, every girl and boy in the country either dreams about being him or fucking him.

That doesn't stop him feeling indistinguishable at most of the after-show parties and ridiculous events they have to troll through. People are full or praise for him, and he goes into the bathroom and stares at his angular features in the mirror and hates himself, because there are millions of people who dream about the kind of life he has. And here he is feeling like nothing. Nothing. Feeling like nothing. For no reason he can see. There are teenagers screaming his name every night of his life, wanting him in ways he can't even begin to understand. Or perhaps he can, because yesterday he was just like them.

Brian doesn't always feel like this, of course. In fact, most of the time, he's loving every minute, telling everyone to forget regret, to stop wasting time being fucking miserable buggers when there's nothing to feel miserable about. Telling them not to waste their lives feeling like shit. Life's too short!! And he doesn't feel miserable, doesn't feel like shit. Not even like this. Just. Just nothing. But he hates himself for it. Feels like a hypocrite. "Cheer up, ya grumpy git," he says to anyone he perceives to not be enjoying everything to the full. And here he is, staring into the mirror and seeing a ghost staring back at him. No. Not a ghost. But someone insignificant, ugly, cripplingly inept, not worth a second glance. Invisible. That's what it all comes down to. He _knows_ he's thinking complete tot. _Knows_ it's not true, but _feels_ like everyone walks straight through him.

And then, all of a sudden, there's Curt.

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**ii.**

'_The ladder's a planet,  
__Roy is a star and  
__I am a satellite. I will be set alight.'_

Curt swoops in from nowhere, drops from a satellite of love. And he becomes Brian's best friend, lover, brother, everything he wants. Curt is all dirt and sleaze and hair and sweat and skin and cigarette smoke and ash. Brian likes to watch him talk to people, sing to people, watch his voice slide into people's ears and eyes. He remembers when Curt did the same thing to him, screaming on that stage, liquid in leather pants, glitter, noise, sex.

There's something inside them both that others don't have. Some strange, alien, wonderful, furious force. Together, they're going to take over the world. Neither of them are sure how, but they will.

He loves walking with Curt, loves the dismissive way he reacts to attention. He loves how Curt really, genuinely doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks. He loves their music, loves being onstage and maintaining smirky, filthy eye contact with Curt far longer than necessary. He loves Curt's hand between his legs under the table at important events, and he loves Curt's hands on his skin. He loves his lipstick smeared across Curt's cheeks and chest and hipbones and cock. He loves it when Curt's fingers smell of him, and he loves needing Curt like nothing else.

Brian has been walking around like a gaping hole. He's been lost, and he's been drifting, and he's been almost gone, and despite his fame and fortune, he's been so fucking lonely. Curt knows this. He knows, and he takes the scattered pieces of Brian's mind and stitches them back together so they're beautiful. Curt holds him, fucks him, does everything to keep him anchored. He has Brian's heart, and he hurls it upwards to flicker around the stars. And then it comes down again, spinning and spinning and when it stops, they're in love.

He knows it, he can't not know it.

**THE LIVIN' END**

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Lyrics by The Smiths & Morrissey. 


End file.
